


Drop The Mic

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Grinding, M/M, Object Insertion, Recording Studio, Shnicky - Freeform, Snogging, Teasing, bound wrists, microphone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky's supposed to be recording his vocals for a new song, not flirting with his microphone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop The Mic

Nicky was being a fucking tease again.

Which wasn't new. Shane was fairly used to Nicky being a tease. Not that it had gotten stale. If there was one thing he adored, it was Nicky being a tease, when his smirk would get cheeky and his eyes would sparkle, and he'd do something so gorgeously, surreptitiously obscene that Shane would be hard-pressed to not just launch across the room and have him on the floor.

He was doing it now, sitting in their home studio with the microphone to his lips, legs spread wide on the stool. You'd have to be watching to notice, and Shane was used to watching. Watching as Nicky's tongue flickered out to not quite touch the top, his hand shifting slightly on the handle, fingers stroking.

“How's that?” He said as the song came to an end. Shane nodded, fiddling with a few slides on the mixing board in front of him.

“Good.” He nodded. “You want to do it again?”

“Always.” He got a wink, and smiled back. It was nice, just the two of them. Mark and Kian would be over in a couple of hours to get involved, but he and Nicky had decided to start early, to have a bit of a tinker with some lyrics they'd been playing with over the weekend.

The beat started up again. Slow and sultry, just a basic rhythm while they got down the idea of it. Nicky closed his eyes, starting to sing.

Shane watched as, halfway through the first verse, Nicky's other hand slowly began to twirl the cord around his index finger.

He couldn't say what it was, but for some reason it looked totally pornographic, fingers slowly looping it and then letting it go, tugging gently. His eyes opened halfway, sleepy and intense, and Shane swallowed hard as a tongue flickered out to touch Nicky's top lip.

“Shit.” He whispered. Knew Nicky couldn't hear him behind the soundproof glass, but he saw a small smirk tweak at the corner of a pouting mouth, Nicky's thighs spreading a little wider. He growled the next note, tongue sliding across his bottom lip in between lyrics. Shane realised his own hand had drifted to the inside of his thigh without him noticing it. Nicky had, though, his eyes glancing down before crawling slowly up Shane's chest, little finger stroking slowly at the base of the microphone.

“Was that alright?” Nicky said hoarsely, and it took a minute for Shane to realise the music had stopped. He leaned in, pressing the button so Nicky could hear him.

“Fine. Yeah.” Nicky was still smirking, and as Shane watched his hands gathered up the microphone cord again, wrapping it slowly around both sets of knuckles until, with a slight twang, he pulled it taut. He raised an eyebrow, smirk turning into a predatory smile.

“Um.” Shane adjusted around the hardness tightening his jeans. “I... I don't think you're supposed to do that to the cord.”

“Oh. Really?” Blue eyes looked down at it, slow and considering. “I don't know. I think it can take a little more than that.” He tugged again, legs spreading a little wider again, and Shane realised there was a thickening bulge stuffing the front of his jeans. “What do you think? How much can it take?”

If Shane had known what to say his mouth would have been too dry to get the words out. Then Nicky shifted and suddenly he was almost drooling down his chest, watching a hand slip out of the cord and wrap around the microphone again, stroking slowly up and down the handle.

“You look a little flushed, Shay.” Nicky croaked. “You wanna go lie down?”

“I'm fine here.” He said stupidly, swallowing when Nicky leaned forward, his other hand tugging the microphone stand closer until it was right up between his legs, the receiver to his mouth. It was silver, the handle black where it peeked out from between his fingers. The stand pressed against him for a second, denim grinding against the metal and pressing to the swell in front. Nicky moaned softly, lips pressing to the silver mesh at the top.

“Let's go again.” He said huskily. “One more time.”

“Fuck.” His own microphone was on, so Nicky heard that one, his eyes flashing dark and cheeky.

“Did you say something, babe?”

“No.” Shane leaned forward a little. “Keep going?”

“I was planning to.” The breathless laugh he heard next was sin. “Did you want to start the music?”

“Yeah. I...” He pressed the button, heard the beat start. Nicky's hand was still moving on the handle, the stand rubbing slowly and determinedly over the rather unambiguous shape tenting his jeans. As he watched, a hand dropped lower, pushing it directly into Nicky's groin. Blue eyes fluttered closed, Nicky's head tipping back a little, then when he leaned forward to sing it was with a hoarse, devilish voice that sounded like pure sex.

Fuck.

Shane was up a second later, aching beneath his constricting jeans. A second after that he was pushing the door to the booth open. Nicky's eyes opened in something that wasn't entirely surprise, and his husky chuckle was cut off when Shane yanked off the headphones, shoved the stand out of the way, and kissed him hard.

“Mmm...” Nicky gasped, arching into him while Shane groaned. Fingers tangled in his hair, a leg hooking his waist and grinding them together. He was hard, they both were, Nicky rutting slowly against him while Shane's hands worked into the back of jeans that were suddenly far too tight, feeling firm flesh fill his hands while Nicky panted against his mouth, hand fumbling at the front of Shane's jeans.

“You fucking tease.” Shane growled, heard a giggle as he started to bite down a long neck. “So fucking sexy.”

“Don't know what you're talking about.” Nicky laughed. Then there were fingers inside Shane's boxers, wrapping around him. He moaned, sucking at a pale throat and feeling Nicky's breath hitch. “Fuck me.” He whispered. “Hard. Now.”

“You don't want me.” Shane shot back. “You were having too much fun with the microphone.”

“Imagining it was you. Oh... _Shane_...!” Shane had just slid a finger down the valley of his arse, finding muscles that jumped and puckered underneath it. “Please...”

“You don't want me, you want this.” Shane reached out, grabbing the microphone and yanking it off the stand. “What is it? Is it because it's bigger than me?”

“No. I...” Nicky gulped. “I want you.”

“Really?” He reached down, running it slowly up the front of Nicky's jeans, pressing hard enough to make the older boy yelp breathlessly, hips jerking into it. “I don't know. Seems like you want this instead.” He pulled his other hand out of Nicky's jeans, heard a disappointed moan, and reached down to grab a handful of the cord. Before Nicky realised what was happening he had it looped around his wrists and pulled tight, binding them together. “How much do you think it can take, Nix?”

“Oh.” Nicky's chest was moving hard, cheeks prickling with a delicate flush that was flooding down into the collar of his shirt. Shane began to unbutton it, pulling it open but not able to remove it with Nicky's hands tied together. He leaned in, beginning to run his tongue down the centre of a beautiful slim chest, yanking Nicky to his feet to get better access.

He dropped to his knees, one hand still holding tight to the cord to kept it tight. The other unzipped Nicky's jeans, and a second later he was in, hearing Nicky cry out above him while thick, salty flesh filled his mouth.

“Yes...” Fingers tangled awkwardly in his hair. Shane grinned around his mouthful, dipping lower to get more in and feeling Nicky convulse against his lips. He had Nicky's jeans yanked down a second later, looked up at wide eyes and a panting chest, and tied a quick knot in the cord to hold it in place. A second later his hands were palming firm cheeks, spreading them apart while Nicky gasped.

He trailed a finger down the middle, felt him jerk in response, arousal throbbing in his mouth while he bobbed slowly, felt a wrinkled entrance twitch beneath his touch. He began to stretch it carefully, not going in, just running his fingertips around the tight muscles to coax them open.

Nicky was going mad, making all sorts of noises and crying his name. It was nice, getting your own back, teasing someone else for once, especially when they were responding this well. He could feel Nicky getting close, feel him relaxing as he began to leak onto Shane's tongue, salty and slick. He groped in his own back pocket for his wallet, and fumbled it out a second later, reaching blindly through the contents while his other finger traced slow circles around loosening muscle.

The condom was in his hand a moment later and he groped on the floor for what he was looking for, felt his hand close around it. Nicky didn't seem to notice, was too busy gasping and thrusting, eyes screwed shut and totally lost.

He rolled the condom on, added lube from a packet tucked into the coin pocket, then reached around. Nicky gasped when it touched him and looked down, pausing. Shane looked up, raising an eyebrow. Saw him swallow hard.

Saw him nod.

He pushed lightly, felt hard resistance when Nicky's body tried to reject something that shape, that size. It wasn't huge, but trying to push something that round through a tight hole was a challenge, and Nicky bowed away from it at once. Shane reached back, spreading him with his free hand and beginning to work it in, feeling Nicky shudder and tense.

“Oh.” It was a broken gasp as the head of the microphone slipped in, eased by prying fingers. Shane drove his mouth down, trying to distract him from the pain. There didn't seem to be any though. The next cry was pure anguished pleasure, Nicky's hips already moving again, jerking back as Shane worked it a little deeper, feeling it push until only half the handle was sticking out, his grip slightly slippery as he tried to hold the condom steady.

Fingers were still gripping his hair, unsteady with Nicky's bound hands. He began to move the microphone, not in and out, just twisting it back and forth, tilting slightly to find the right spot.

“ _Yes!_ ” Nicky shrieked, voice loud and strangely flat in the soundproof booth. One leg fumbled, foot hooking onto the step of the stool, thighs leaning against it for a bit of purchase while Nicky rocked back onto it, Shane's repeating the motion now that he'd gotten it right. There was a blurting, gurgling cry and then Nicky jerked suddenly while his fingers tightened in Shane's hair. “Ohmygod...” He gasped. “Oh...”

Shane felt him lengthen in his throat, wished he had a hand free to touch himself, but he was too busy trying to fuck Nicky with one hand, the other holding the cock in his mouth steady so he didn't choke. It was torture, everything burning and pinching, just needing that bit of fucking pressure...

He realised the microphone stand was still next to him and reached out, yanking it closer and between his spread thighs, kneeling up slightly to get connection. It knocked Nicky's hands out of his hair, and when he looked up the blonde was gripping the shaft of the stand with both hands, leaning on it for support while Shane ground against it, the hard metal butting his shoulder every time he drove down.

“Shay...!” Nicky yelped, and he was tilting the stand suddenly, pushing it harder into Shane's groin, and that was it. Perfect. Right fucking there and Nicky swelling on his tongue, the microphone tilted into just the right spot and...

He wanted to moan, wanted to cry out. The stand rubbed against him again, and he lost it, groaning around Nicky's cock and hearing his boyfriend whimper at the vibrations, hand twisting harder on the handle sticking out of his arse. Hammering down and screwing his eyes shut while he felt himself go, pumping painfully untouched over the base of the stand while Nicky ground it into him, hips jerking erratic and hard.

“Yes...” Nicky gasped, shoving back. “Now. Oh...” Shane opened his eyes in time to see his head rock back, mouth open in a cry while his own mouth flooded with release. He swallowed fast, throat working around the taste of Nicky on his tongue, ecstatic whimpers filling his senses.

He let go with a breathless gasp, sucking in air and almost collapsing forward, his forehead leaned against strong thighs. The stand was pushed out of the way, and he blindly reached up, unknotting the cord still trapping slender wrists. Nicky fell next to him a second later, laying on his side on the carpet and wincing, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Get it out...” He muttered. “Can't do it any more...”

“Yeah.” Shane agreed, reaching over. With a careful yank and a whimper it was out. He tugged the condom off and dropped the microphone on the floor, heard Nicky giggle.

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah.” Shane repeated, collapsing back and still trying to catch his breath. “You fucking tease.”

 

*

 

They showered slowly, pausing to snog every few seconds, and just as Shane was tugging a clean shirt on Mark and Kian arrived, wandering in and heading straight for the studio.

“Shit, what happened in here?” Kian asked, already pushing open the door before Shane had a chance to stop him.

“I... tripped.” Nicky offered, looking around at the mess everywhere, the microphone and headphones on the floor. The... rather suspicious drying stain on the base of the microphone and the carpet.

“You two are useless.” Mark laughed, rolling his eyes and already sinking down behind the mixing desk. “Let's see if you actually managed to record something, then.”

“ _Oh god... Shay... yes... uh... ah...!”_

Mark went bright red first, then he started to laugh. Kian froze halfway across the booth. Nicky gasped, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

A second later the microphone was oddly muffled. Then he heard a sound, a sort of throbbing, pulsing sound that seemed strangely... organic.

“Uh...” Shane leaned over to turn off the recording, his face on fire. Mark was still laughing, leaned forward in the chair and his face buried in his hands. Kian was still frozen, his hand hiding his giggles. Then he looked down at the floor and yelped, taking a step back from where Shane had dropped the condom.

“Lads! Gross!” He backed out of the booth, almost stumbling in his haste. They both got an indignant swat on the back of the head. “Bad!”

“It wasn't my fault!” Nicky protested, a laugh invading his voice. Shane stared at him in disbelief, about ready to smack him himself once he managed to crawl back out from the hole he was trying to hide in. His boyfriend smirked, looking over with a wink. “Shane was being a tease.”

 


End file.
